


My sweet maid

by tall_wolf_of_tarth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Married Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quiet Isle fic, Smut, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24318220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tall_wolf_of_tarth/pseuds/tall_wolf_of_tarth
Summary: What happens at Quiet Isle. Some softness and then sex. that's it.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 26
Kudos: 158





	My sweet maid

**Author's Note:**

> I know there are probs half a million QI fics, but this one is mine. Until GRRM plops out the Winds, this will be my headcanon.

My sweet maid

Her dreams are jumbled and the pain seeps through them but there’s a ribbon there. A white ribbon around her hand, binding it to Jaime’s. She dreams of the boat rocking, Podrick crying and voices shouting. When she wakes up, Jaime is there with her.

“It’s alright, I’m here, I got you, I’m here,” he holds her when she cries from pain.

“Jaime,” she manages to whisper, and her head is in his lap and he pets her hair until she sleeps again.

He is always there when she wakes. Sometimes there are others too, but Jaime is always nearby. There is a woman who washes Brienne and helps her to make water, but Jaime is never far, and he always comes when she cries.

“Jaime,” she whispers again.

“I’m here, sweetling.” He helps her to drink water.

“I dreamed...”

“What did you dream of, Brienne?”

“Wedding, there was a wedding.”

“Yes, sweetling. There was a wedding. It wasn’t a dream.” His hand is gently petting her hair again. “It was our wedding, my sweet girl.”

“I married you,”

“Yes, sweetling, you married me.”

“Podrick found a ribbon... There wasn’t a ribbon, but Podrick....” her throat is dry again.

“Yes, Podrick found a ribbon from his pocket, and Septon Meribald married us.”

Brienne is too tired to talk more, so she closes her eyes again and lets the dreams to pull her under again.

***

She gets better, bit by bit. One day Jaime scoops her up and carries her outside, to sit on the bench outside of her cottage, swaddled like a babe to Jaime's cloak. She watches Podrick playing in the snow with a dog. Jaime’s hand is around her back and her head leaning to his shoulder.

“Wife.” His voice is so gentle and kind. “I better get you back inside before we get caught by the brothers.”

”Jaime,” she lifts her head from his shoulder. “I’m really not your wife, am I?”

He wipes away the snowflakes from her hair.

“I mean, it’s not true until..." She feels her face going red.

“No, it’s not true yet.” He smiles a little. Podrick is throwing snowballs to the puppy and they make a racket. “But I want it to be.” He is so very serious when he says that. There are so many things she should say, so many reasons why Ser Jaime couldn’t or shouldn't marry her.

“We can, you know, if we want to.” he starts to argue against her thoughts. “The Kingsguard has been dissolved. And I want to. Us to be married for real.”

The snow starts to fall in big fat flakes. “But only if you want it too, my sweet girl.” He kisses her cheek, her ugly maimed cheek, and Brienne feels herself going warm everywhere. “I want it, Jaime,” she whispers. But there are things, concerns that need to be addressed.

They talk about it all in the following days. There is so much to talk, about Tarth, about Casterly Rock, about her father and his family. Their conversations, marriage negotiations really, happen in small bits, when they eat or tend the fire or when he walks her to the septry to have her stitches removed. They even talk about the queen. And then they talk about Sansa, and Tommen and what they need to do next.

“Yes,” she tells him later when all that could be said is said. “Yes, I do want to be your wife,” and then he kisses her properly for the first time.

They send out ravens next day.

“Father, I am married.” Brienne writes, fills up the page with small scribble and prays that the raven will reach her father. Jaime sends several ravens, and groans when he manages to finish the last one.

“It's done, my wench,” he drops the quill to the table and rolls up the page. “The world will know now that I have married you.” It feels terrifying to Brienne, to be seen like that.

***

“Wife, my sweet wife,” Jaime later whispers to her ear when they walk to their cottage, his arm around her middle although she doesn’t need the support any more as she is quite strong already. “Can I come to your bed tonight, my sweet wife?”

Brienne feels her face burning, _yes_ she wants to say, but is too shy, so she nods instead.

Tomorrow they leave, so they've spent the day packing, organising and talking to others in their party. Podrick, and Hyle and Sandor, they will meet them at the dawn at the shore but now they have this last night together, just the two of them under one roof.

In their cottage, Brienne goes to build a fire while Jaime pushes their pallets together and fusses with furs and blankets and bed linens. Gone is the sickbed, marriage bed replaces it now. The fire crackles brightly and Brienne doesn’t know where to look because it’s a small room and this new giant bed takes most of it.

Be brave, Brienne, she tells herself but she is not brave, not about _this_ and her hands shake when she unfastens her tunic. Jaime’s eyes are on her and she is not brave at all so she turns her back to him and sits on the bed to pull off her boots.

If there was a proper wedding she would wear a dress and silky underthings, not breeches and Jaime’s shirt. She pulls off everything besides the shirt, because the shirt still covers most of her, except her legs. And besides, she likes the shirt. It’s good linen, soft with age and stitched with tiny white stitches and Brienne wonders which woman of Jaime's family has sewn this to him and would she mind Brienne wearing this now.

“Wench,” he attacks her gently from behind. His arms snake around her and his lips are at her cheek. “You are shaking, my sweet girl.” He has so many names for her now, and almost all of them are sweet.

He pulls her down to the furs, and _oh_ , he is naked already.

“You know I won’t hurt you? My sweet?” His kisses are gentle and his fingers light as snowflakes when he runs them across her face.

Brienne doesn’t know what to do with her hands, she wrings them in front of her until Jaime takes one, kisses it and puts it to his face. He is so beautiful, her Jaime. She knows that he would never hurt her. She moves forward and kisses him.

Kissing is nice, it can be sweet and gentle or it can be something much more, something frantic, exciting, like sparring when your blood starts to sing and body to react to your opponent. Kissing Jaime now is like fighting him, hands and arms and legs are moving around and it's hard to keep account of them all, especially when her head is spinning of want. She pushes her own hands to his hair, runs the fingers through the silky curls and he leans to her touch and she feels like she is winning but then Jaime's hand is snaking up her thigh under her shirt and she wants to surrender instead.

“Jaime, please,” she begs him. His mouth is on her throat now and it's going lower, lower. There is a tiny pearl button that fastens the shirt at her throat. Jaime pulls himself back and plays with the button. There is a question in his eyes, so she nods, and he pulls the button open. He doesn't look down where his hand is, but to her eyes while his hand pushes slowly inside her shirt. He finds her breast, runs his thumb across her nipple and Brienne lets out a shaking breath.

“I want to see you, my sweet,” he begs her. And Brienne wants that too, wants his skin on her skin, his eyes on her. She unbuttons her shirt cuffs and lifts her arse when Jaime pulls the shirt up. Together they pull it off her and Jaime discards it somewhere.

She is now naked as her nameday, but not the first time. His eyes roam over her, and she remembers the other time.

“There are other beds, Jaime,” she smiles. Does he remember? He laughs; of course, he remembers.

“But this one suits me fine,” he responds and then he is kissing her again. Her mouth, her throat, and then her breasts. “Your sweet little tits, how I've wanted to kiss them.” He kisses them now, one and then the other. He grazes her nipple with his teeth and makes Brienne whimper.

“Oh, you like that, sweet girl?” so he does it again and again until Brienne cries out.

“Please,” she begs, “Jaime, please.” And she doesn't know what she wants, but Jaime seems to know, because he crawls lower, and his lips and his mouth move downward on her body until they reach where she is hot and needy. He kisses her _there_ , kisses with lips and tongue, and touches it with his fingertips and it's good, it's so good and Brienne didn't know it can be like that. It's hard to be still, its impossible to be quiet, and when Jaime puts his finger – _in her_ \- she makes a sound so loud that it might reach the brothers in the septry.

“Please,” she begs him, but she doesn't know if she wants him to stop or continue, and he doesn't stop, and then it all gets so overwhelming, so good and she just lets it go and lets the pleasure to pull her under the waves.

He looks so smug when she comes back to her senses, and it annoys her. She puts the sole of her foot to his shoulder and pushes, he goes down laughing and it's so embarrassing that Brienne turns to her side and hides her face to her hands. She made all these noises, and let him touch her _there_ , with his _mouth_ , and she knows that he's going to be insufferable about it now.

“Don't hide, my sweetling.” Jaime is wrapping his arms around her again and Brienne feels his hard cock pressing against her buttocks. He teases her with kisses until she unfurls, and they are pressing against each other again, front to front. He pushes her gently, now she is on her back again, him on top of her and his weight on top of her is glorious.

“Brienne,” he sighs, and he lifts her leg a little with his handless arm. “Brienne, my sweet, may I?” and of course he may, she wants it so much.

“Yes, Jaime, I want to, please...” and then he puts the tip of his cock to her folds, moves it a little, finds the place where his finger was before and pushes it in.

It doesn't hurt, she thinks. That was a lie. It just feels odd. Jaime is looking at her, and he is so pretty, so she kisses him and he starts moving.

“Sweetling,” he sighs, “my sweet girl, my love,” he is babbling now, and his cock moving inside her starts to feel good, and Brienne just holds him, her hands on his back, and she wraps her legs around him too, and that feels even better. Jaime's hand is on her breast now, and he rolls her nipple with his fingers again and it makes all the blood inside Brienne to rush to her cunt again. “My sweet, my love,” he moans and his eyes are half hooded and his fingers are on her cunt again, rubbing and Brienne lets the rush take her over again when Jaime slams into her with last few times with a groan. She feels his cock twitching inside her, so nice and so good, and she is so happy that it was Jaime who gave this all to her. She is his now, and he is hers.

***

Brienne didn't know what to expect after bedding, but apparently, it involves lots of cuddling and sweet-talking. And apparently some teasing.

“Let me kiss your sweet plump lips again, my sweet wench,” he nudges her with his nose like he is some overeager puppy and not a commander of an army and Very Important Person.

“You are kissing me now, Jaime,” she tries to keep up with him, but of course, she can't. Not yet at least.

“Not these lips, my girl. Your _other_ lips.”

“Gods, Jaime,” she pushes him off her. “Don't say things like _that_!”

“But you go so wonderfully red, my shy maid,” he purrs and pulls her to his arms again. It's nice to be in his arms. Safe and warm. They are married now, properly wedded and bedded.

“No longer maid, Jaime.” He seems to agree to that and lazily runs his hand down her side, over the red scar below her ribs, down to her arse where it stops and squeezes.

“We should sleep, my sweet. We leave at dawn.”

“There is plenty of time to sleep, wife. We should do _that_ again.” He grazes her throat with his teeth, horny and happy. “To make sure it sticks.”

So they do _that_ again, and then they sleep, and this time Brienne doesn't dream at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder whose ribbon Podrick has in his pocket? hmm? Anyone?  
> (spoilers: It's Sansas.)


End file.
